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Pilgrimage to the veld shows up whingein... |
Pilgrimage to the veld shows up whingeing whites in their holiday homesMAYBE the old Nats knew a thing or two when they erected all those veld toilets in what was then called the Northern Transvaal. Last week was the Zion Christian Church's annual Easter meeting at Moria which attracts worshippers from all over South Africa and its neighbouring states. On the Sunday it was reported that there were a million visitors, but by Tuesday newspapers reported 5-million, which makes any of those new testament gatherings look like an intimate cocktail party by comparison. The extraordinary thing about this annual pilgrimage is that it is attended by black people, many of whom can barely afford the bus fare and who spend several days in less than ideal conditions praying for their fellow South Africans before returning to the daily struggle of their lives. By contrast, we whites prefer to slip off to our luxurious holiday homes (which stand empty for most of the year) to give lavish dinner parties and complain that the country is going to the dogs. The juxtaposition is powerful - and the humility exhibited by those who attend the Moria festival offers a beacon of hope to our crumbling, selfish society. The church's leader, Bishop Barnabas Lekganyane, in a rare interview granted to the media, spoke about the death penalty, saying it was a necessary evil in a country where "criminals brazenly shoot, rape and maim innocent people". He expressed amazement that our society has allowed drug dealers, rapists and murderers to become role models for our children. Sadly, our politicians don't yet seem to realise that society is disintegrating before their eyes in an orgy of crime. The Constitution may guarantee the right to life, but when violent crime reaches the epidemic proportions it has it is surely time to re-evaluate the situation. Bishop Lekganyane claims to have no political ambitions, which is a pity because what he says makes good sense. Any political party interested in garnering about 7-million votes in 1999 would do well to listen to him.
Joining the exodus from Parliament is ANC politician and chanteuse Jennifer Ferguson, who is also leaving the country with her husband and children to live in Sweden. They intend to set up an "international music and creativity centre" in the internationally unknown village of Dala-Floda: a name that sounds more like a brand of dental floss. Who knows, under Jennifer's guidance Dala-Floda may yet become the northern hemisphere's premier struggle centre where homesick South Africans will gather to listen to the Volvo night shift mass choir's version of Nkosi Sikelel' iAfrika. Jennifer's main contribution to democracy since 1994 was wondering whether or not to sing her maiden speech to Parliament. Other than that, she has drifted along, trying unsuccessfully to get to grips with the parliamentary system, and grateful for the MP's salary, which no doubt came in useful between night club gigs. You might have thought there would be more pressing matters for a politician, but Jennifer's valedictory contribution was, "I think it's tragic we've taken song out of Parliament."
Rather like the changing of the guard at Buckingham Palace and the running of the bulls in Pamplona, the presentation of the auditor-general's annual report is becoming one of the quaint traditions of South Africa. The government funds the auditor-general's office and charges it with scrutinising government accounts to give the taxpaying public the illusion at least that there is no hanky-panky going on with their money. The auditor-general duly reports that there is evidence of widespread financial mismanagement and unauthorised spending and the politicians reply by denying the allegations and ignoring any recommendations to improve matters. It is a drama that is played out year after year and the role of the auditor general is obviously only of symbolic significance. Mentioned in dispatches this year was Health Minister Nkosazana Zuma, who apparently managed to spend some R58-million without authorisation, most of it on consultants' fees. Zuma is no stranger to financial controversy. but as she enjoys "royal game" status within the ANC she doesn't have to abide by the same rules as lesser ministers. Meanwhile, let's hope that the auditor-general is not the sort of person to worry about job satisfaction.
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